


Kansas 5

by Unlucky_charm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Worship, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester Drabble(s), Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Drabble, Episode: s11e15 Beyond the Mat, Fluff, M/M, Post-Arc: Lucifer Possessing Castiel, SO MUCH FLUFF, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6496078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlucky_charm/pseuds/Unlucky_charm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel pokes at Dean's pudge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kansas 5

**Author's Note:**

> Post s11e15 -Beyond The Mat

It wasn’t exactly pudge. But it wasn’t exactly _not_ pudge either.

Removing the Dark Lord Satan himself from your angel best friend’s vessel-turned-actual-body was not easy work. So when Sam and Dean finally stumbled into the bunker, steps weighed down by exhaustion and the unconscious angel they were hauling, it was only normal for them to collapse into their respective beds and stay there for the next eighteen hours.

Eighteen hours, however, turned into days. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. They were awake during the daytime, at least, but laying around became commonplace throughout all twenty-four hours of the bunker’s daily routine. Well deserved rest seeped into pure laziness with every “the local hunters are handling it, Dean” and “it’s probably not a case, not worth driving across the country for” that were exchanged between the brothers. If the resident angel had an opinion on the matter, the rest were not made aware. In fact, Castiel had been eerily silent since his arrival (and wakening). Dean, while familiar with the brand of muteness that came with guilt, felt it was wiser to leave the angel to his own devices, which included a large amount of cooking, cleaning, washing, organizing, and generally tending to the Winchesters’ every need. Both their clothes and dishes smelled like a lemon tree orchard.

 Hence, the pudge.

Since Lucifer’s exorcism, Dean’s level of physical activity swan dived into the abyss. He was not running, carrying, swinging, and especially, 25 anymore. His body and its best friend gravity caught up to him and caught up fast.  

Dean sighed at his own sad reflection standing inside the full bodied mirror, grabbing at the expanding layer of fat gathering at the base of his stomach. No, he thought with a shudder, his _tummy._

He could join the gym, he thought, but quickly discarded the idea. The bunker provided all the resources for him to get back into shape and he’s been tactfully ignoring said resources since day one. He could start hunting again... but he really didn’t want to. He wasn’t done with domesticity just yet. Perhaps he could let himself go and start over once he and Sammy went back to work... And that would have been a great idea if it weren’t for the good ol’ Winchester insecurity!

 When he first noticed the changes –the fading definition of abdominal muscle, the heavy breathing at the top of the staircase, the slight strain on the button of his jeans –he didn’t think of all his sexual conquests. He didn’t think of all the bodies he’d worshipped who’d worshipped him right back in the past. The countless women who’ve invited him to their beds, running hungry gazes over his body from under heavy lashes. He didn’t think of that one girl who sank her teeth into her lips at the sight of him shirtless. He didn’t think of Anna who had chosen him as her one sexual experience on her last day on earth.   

No. The first thing Dean Winchester thought of upon taking note of his weight gain was a demon.

_‘You want an L.A. 10, but you settle for a Kansas 5. Life, right?’_

Pretty tame insult for a demon, but only now did it really hit a nerve. He squeezed at the fat, tugging it away from his body as if it would magically just rip off. The skin stretched taught before he let it snap back into place. There was definitely some jiggle there, not much of it, but still there.

“Kansas 5, eh?” He sighed to himself and was about to call it a very sad night when a voice –one he hadn’t been startled by in too long –startled him.

“What’s a Kansas five?”

“Cas! Jesus –!“ Dean spun around to face the intruding angel, furiously tugging his shirt down. His alarm did not stop Castiel from breaching the threshold uninvited and standing behind him before the mirror.

“What’s a Kansas five?” He repeated, frowning in the general direction of Dean’s torso in the mirror.

This was promising to be the longest conversation they’d shared since Lucifer’s expulsion and Dean wasn’t about to let his ego get in the way.

He sighed again: “Back when Luci had his hand up your ass, there was this demon. Said I was a Kansas 5.”

Castiel watched him through the mirror and Dean had never felt so naked in his life, as the angel’s eyes shamelessly trailed up and down his body. The permanent frown donning his face deepened and Dean couldn’t help but feel some kind of twisted relief at the familiarity; a confused angel was better than a sad angel.

“Clearly this demon’s eyesight is very poor.”

Now, _that_ he didn’t see coming.

Dean’s gaze rapidly snapped back up to meet Castiel’s eye in the mirror, offering him the bewilderment in his eyes and the shy smile tugging at his lips. There was a chance the angel did not fully understand the implications of his statement, but Dean was confident it was meant to be _sweet_ either way.  

“Cas, I-”

“Obviously there are not five of you, Dean. If anything, you’re a Kansas 1.”

 _Aaaaand there goes that_ , Dean thought to himself. He wondered if Cas enjoyed metaphorically disinfecting the wound before chopping the entire arm off.  At least when Sam was unhelpful, he didn’t make the problem worse.

“I’m not a Kansas 1, Cas.” He said from under the hands he was running over his face, hoping they would hide the irritation hinted in his tone. Pudge or no pudge, Dean knew he was far from a Kansas 1.

“I don’t understand. If the Jackson 5 consisted of five people, why wouldn’t the Kansas 5?”

“It’s not –“ Dean continued to run his hands over his face multiple times. Last time he checked, reflecting on his self-esteem issues with an angel was not on his to-do list today.

“It’s a scale, Cas. From one to ten and I’m a five in Kansas standards.”

It felt like years since he’d seen that frown. There wasn’t much left that could confuse Castiel these days, but a smile threatened to break the corners of Dean’s mouth as the signature head tilt followed through, right on cue.

“Dean,” he said and okay, it really must have been a while because the shiver that ran through his spine at the sound of his name felt like the first time, in that barn painted in his wings.

They were still talking through their reflections and somehow that made the conversation more intimate.

“That’s ridiculous,” he stated. “I am not familiar with the customary measurement systems in Kansas, but with the same logic you’re... you’re a...” He zoned out for a moment, with a calculating purse on his lips.

“A Heaven 11.”

“A what?!” Dean actually laughed.

“A   Heaven 11. Your soul glows brighter and clearer than any I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah?” he scoffed. “Can souls get fat?”

“No. Souls can’t pack fat like human bodies do. They don’t even have digestive systems.”

“Lucky them,” he sighed both in exasperation towards Cas and the state of his lower abdomen.

Looking in the mirror, he didn’t mean to place his hands on the softness there. It had become a habit of his over the last couple of weeks. Every time he crossed a mirror, he was painfully conscious of what lay under the small bulge at the hem of his t-shirt. But now, he was the only conscious one. Cas was still watching his reflection and Dean had just drawn all of his attention to the one place he didn’t want it.

“Oh.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in the direction of his ‘problem area’ and Dean felt the sudden urge to curl up into a ball and hide. This conversation had gone on long enough.

“Listen, Cas – wait, what are – _Cas!_ ”

Before he knew it, he had an angel kneeling at his feet, celestial grasp swivelling his hips around into face-to-crotch position. Dean felt thumbs pressing into the hollows of his hipbones and fingers hoisting the fabric of his shirt as they unfurled. Meanwhile, Dean let his knuckles turn white at his sides to keep them from shoving Cas away.

In the mirror, Cas held up Dean’s shirt with one hand and poked at the fat of his belly with the other. Dean squirmed under the touch, his hand darting out reflexively to catch at Cas’. The poking was immediately reduced to a soft feathery graze as Castiel lifted his head to meet Dean with a cross-eyed gaze.

“Is this what’s bothering you?” He asked, dead serious and voice too loud in the delicate atmosphere they’d created.

“Yes,” Dean gulped, looking straight ahead. His hands were tight over Cas’, holding them in place, but unmoving. He didn’t think he could take it if they moved any more. His mouth, however, was unprecedented.

Dean gasped at the feel of Castiel’s lips stubbornly pressing into the softness of his stomach, right under his belly button. When he pulled away with a soft smack a moment later, Dean knew he had just kissed him.

“It shouldn’t.” He kissed him again. “You’re beautiful, Dean.”

“Cas...” Dean whispered, voice ragged and hoarse.

“You are so lovely.” Kiss. “Inside and out.” And another kiss. _Oh._ Mouth open. Wet. “Soul and body.”

Dean buried his fingers into the messy tuffs of Cas’ hair to gently tilt his head upwards.

“What are you doing?” he asked, chuckling softly but nervously.

“Apologizing for you,” the angel said and shot Dean an accusing glare before nuzzling his stomach again.

“What?”

“I made this body, Dean,” his mouth moved against his skin, the ghost of tongue driving Dean mad. Castiel’s tone was no longer comforting, but authoritative. “Attached every muscle to its bone, wove every nerve into its skin. I gave it sight and I gave it breath and I gave it strength. Only a most perfect cradle for the most perfect soul.”

Castiel dug his chin into his stomach and stared up at him with eyes Dean would argue were more perfect than anything he ever had to offer. He didn’t argue, though. He couldn’t. Castiel had him completely speechless.

“I don’t appreciate your scrutiny, Dean.”

Dean sighed for the hundredth time and grabbed the angel by the lapels of his coat to pull him to his feet. He didn’t think his belly could go another round with Cas’ mouth. At least not without any _lower_ organs offering their help.

“I’m sorry Cas,” he muttered, closing is eyes as the angel leaned his forehead against his. “But I’m not some earth-walking god.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, seemingly more preoccupied with creeping his own to hands up to hold Dean’s face. “I see I should have spent more time on your sight.”

Dean couldn’t help but choke on a laugh.

“That was one hell of a line there, Cas,” he said and put his hands on his angel’s waist to finally pull them together entirely.

They laughed more and Dean made it a point to kiss that gummy smile he loved so much every time it appeared on Cas’ face.

“Thank you,” he whispered eventually.

“For what?”

“Putting me back together.”    

 


End file.
